


When You Need Me

by Ravelen



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Love, M/M, Malec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravelen/pseuds/Ravelen
Summary: It seems he pops up, when I most need him.Magnus gets a visit from an old friend.Set after 3x05 Stronger Than Heaven. Written before 3x06 aired.





	When You Need Me

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm not done with this episode. I...don't know where this came from. I need the angst to be gone, so perhaps it came from there. It started as a gentle chat between friends and grew a little plot at the end, what? I don't usually do plot and am not sure how well it works but it is what it is. 
> 
> Boring bits: Un-beta’d so please forgive mistakes. I’m British and do my best to Americanise but some Britquirks may remain.

"What in Lilith's name are you doing, man?"

With those words, Magnus was wrenched from sleep and found himself sitting up in bed, blinking at the scowling man sitting on the end of it.

Alec hadn't spent the night, citing a need to supervise patrol duties, but Magnus knew he was really off licking his wounds, no matter how he'd agreed to focus on the here and now. Last night Magnus had been disappointed but now he was glad he was alone. He didn't want Alec to see this. Either he was going mad or this was actually happening and he would loathe corroboration of either possibility in equal measure.

Heart thumping, Magnus affected a spectacular eye roll and slid from the bed. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" he muttered, stalking to his dressing table, peering into the mirror and grimacing at the sleep-rumpled face that peered back. He sat himself down and began to sift through the make-up he’d chucked down haphazardly the day before, looking for his blackest eyeliner, despite the fact that he’d need to shower first. He was, in actual fact, keeping himself occupied and hoping the apparition still present in his peripheral vision would kindly bugger off if he ignored it - him - for long enough.

"I'm here because you need me," the other man said, his voice soft now. "And you'd been doing so well." 

Magnus turned at that and found his friend shaking his head sadly. 

"Had I?" he asked, incredulously, embarrassed when his voice cracked over the 'I'. 

"Well, relatively speaking."

Magnus turned back to the mirror and sighed. His hair closely resembled a crow's nest. 

"Get dressed and sort out that Barnet," his visitor advised. "I'll go and see to breakfast." 

One long, hot shower later and Magnus had convinced himself it was all a very strange dream. He dressed in sharp black pants and a burgundy shirt he knew Alec particularly liked, intending to portal to the Institute to bring him breakfast. As he wandered through to his lounge, however, pushing his fingers and a thread of magic through his hair to sweep it up, he could hear the rumbling of his coffee pot, smell eggs being badly cooked by an idiot and flinched at the sudden unmistakeable crack of a dropped plate. The following colourful language in that dear British accent had him marching toward the kitchen, wide eyed.

"Have you any idea how difficult it is to cook breakfast when you're dead?" Ragnor asked, hands hovering over the stove where the eggs spat angrily. 

Magnus blinked. "To be fair, you never were much of a cook." He raised his hands and called upon his magic, neatly clearing away the mess and depositing perfectly cooked eggs, freshly baked rolls and deliciously brewed coffee on his dining table all at once. 

"Yes well, it's all the more difficult when I can't fix it easily," Ragnor complained, hands out in front of him and fingers wiggling as he followed Magnus through to the table. 

"No magic?" Magnus asked. 

"Apparently not," Ragnor told him, sitting before their morning feast with a happy sigh. "How I've missed this." 

Magnus raised an eyebrow in question as he lifted his own fork. 

"Spending time with you over a good meal," Ragnor explained. 

Magnus put his fork back down, his appetite disappearing as sure as his wits. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Are you?...Am I?..."

"Oh, you're not going mad," Ragnor assured him, stabbing his eggs gleefully. He shoved a fork full in his mouth and moaned happily. "I've missed food." 

Magnus glared at him. "I've lived for centuries and never encountered a ghost, what else am I supposed to believe?" 

"Believe what you want, my dearest," Ragnor entreated. "I'm here and that's all that matters. Now pass me the butter."

Against Magnus's better judgement he did so, then picked his fork back up and ate his food, allowing his friend to fill the time with gossip about people Magnus had forgotten existed and questions about Catarina and how 'the devil' she was doing. Magnus considered slipping his phone from his pants pocket and sending Catarina an SOS text at that point. If she portaled in he'd at least know for sure if this was happening. 

But, soon enough, Ragnor dropped his fork to his plate, slapped his belly with a sated sigh and stood up. "Shall we?" 

"Shall we what?" Magnus asked, but Ragnor had wandered through to the lounge and he found himself unable to do anything but follow. 

There he found his dear old friend poking through his bookshelves, seemingly looking for something. 

"If I'm not going mad, then what? You _are_ a ghost?" Magnus asked. 

"Is it so hard to believe?" Ragnor asked, spinning to face him and jamming his hands in the deep pockets of his coat. Now that Magnus looked carefully and cast his mind back to that awful day in Ragnor's cottage, he saw that his friend was wearing same outfit. 

"Your closest friends are warlocks and vampires," Ragnor said. "Your boyfriend a demon hunter. Is a ghost such a stretch?" 

" _You_ were my closest friend," Magnus told him. 

"Hmm,” Ragnor mused, returning to the books and running a finger along the titles. “Then maybe that's your answer.” Magnus watched as Ragnor’s fingers stirred up dust from the books that danced in the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

“Ah hah!” Ragnor grabbed a slim, black book and waved it at Magnus. “And rubbish, Catarina is your closest friend. I never did understand half of what the two of you would witter on about, thick as thieves." 

"Catarina is my dear, dear friend," Magnus allowed. "But with you I always felt...safe. You reined us in, watched over us. Now, who do I have to turn to?" 

Ragnor took his book and made himself comfortable on Magnus's most roomy couch, patting the seat beside him. "I'm right here, dear heart." 

Magnus almost stumbled in his haste to join him, sinking against his friend’s side as Ragnor lifted his arm and wrapped it around him. 

"Tsk, tsk," Ragnor tutted. "No tears." 

And if Magnus utterly failed to follow that command, well there was no one there to see.

Magnus felt that some length of time had passed the next time he opened his eyes. The sun was higher in the sky, painting long shadows from his window frames across his floor and he felt better rested, though his mouth was a little dry. He lifted his head from the warmed velvet arm of the couch and looked around. No Ragnor. Probably a good thing, he thought, though couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment.

At that moment there was a thud from the direction of his study and he hurried through, wondering if Alec had let one of those damned cats in again. He knew how he felt about them being in the loft, ever since the Iris Rouse incident.

But no, of course it was not a cat. 

“Sorry,” Ragnor said, ducking down to peer at Magnus through shelves laden with his potions and ingredients. “Did I wake you? You did look so peaceful.”

Magnus closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not a dream then?”

“Dear boy!” Ragnor exclaimed. “I am mightily insulted!” 

“Of course you are,” Magnus told him. “What are you doing in here.”

“Looking for…this!” Ragnor cried triumphantly, snatching a dusty bottle from a lower shelf. He was still holding the book, Magnus noticed, and now he slipped that beneath his arm and pressed the bottle into the palm of his left hand, using the right to usher Magnus from the room, his hand a light warmth through Magnus’s shirt. 

“I think you might want to reapply that face gunk,” Ragnor advised him, as they re-emerged in the lounge. “You look like a panda.”

“Huh?” Magnus stopped to look in one of his many mirrors. He’d clearly slept on one side of his face and smudged everything. He sighed and snapped his fingers, correcting it with magic. He didn’t have time to do it the old-fashioned way.

“Why are you here?” Magnus asked, for seemingly the tenth time, watching as Ragnor placed the book and then the bottle on the small table at the end of the couch.

“Take a look at these when I’m gone, there’s a good chap.”

Magnus blinked. “Um…okay.”

“Now listen,” Ragnor said, striding over to face Magnus and gripping him by the upper arms, hard enough to hold him still. “I understood the thing with the sword. He should have told you about it and you had our people to protect. You _did_ make something of a show of yourself, shutting him out and acting like a petulant child, but I suppose you’re both as bad as each other in that regard. But this, this unwillingness to accept that he won’t leave you, it’s too much!”

Magnus raised his hands, flexing his biceps and pulling away from his friends grip. “What are you talking about?”

“You,” Ragnor told him. “Being unwilling to let Alexander all the way in. It’s ridiculous. You're merely scared. Anyone with eyes can see how much that boy means to you, I technically don't _have_ eyes and I can see it plain as day!" 

Magnus turned away, "It's been a matter of months-" 

"You fall in love in an afternoon, man. I've seen you move across the country to be with someone after spending one day in their company. You entered a centuries long love affair with that - that emotional succubus Camille on the basis that she'd batted her eyes at you across the pub!" 

Magnus didn't speak for a long time. If Ragnor was a figment of his imagination then he needed to have a long chat with his psyche.

“Alec’s different.”

“Yes,” Ragnor agreed, “he is. You fell in love with him in the time it took you to say, ‘Who are you?’”

“That’s not…strictly true.”

“You stormed into his wedding and he chose you, in front of all of those stuck up Clave types. You’ve heard the rumours, haven’t you, my dear? Shadowhunters mate for life.”

Magnus dropped his head and stared at his shoes. “So, what is your all conquering advice,” he asked. “Lay it on me. The sooner I am rid of you the better.” He lifted his head and fixed Ragnor with a challenging stare.

Ragnor raised an eyebrow and smiled beautifically. “Just, let him love you. Fear it, if you must, but do it anyway. He’s said it enough times himself, he’s not going anywhere.” He chuckled. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if the man found some way to stick around forever. Don’t forget that book.”

Magnus turned to look at the table beside the couch. When he turned back, Ragnor was gone. The book and the bottle were still there when he went to check. The bottle contained nothing too unusual, faerie breath. The book was another matter. The cover was plain black and Magnus flipped it open, breath stalling in his throat at the words on the first page.

“Ragnor Fell’s Little Book of Immortality,” he read aloud. “You have got to be kid-”

“Oh, another thing!” Ragnor said suddenly, reappearing behind Magnus and making him jump. “That client, from yesterday, with the soldier and the love potion?”

“Yes?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I…pardon?”

Ragnor sighed. “Never mind, you always did let your heart overrule your head.”

“You were saying? About the client?” Magnus snapped.

“Oh yes, there’s something you really must know.”

Magnus swept into the entrance hall of the Institute with a singular focus. He was, you might say, a man on a mission. A mission that was derailed somewhat by the sight of Alexander, his sister and Clary marching towards him from the Ops Center. They reached him and all spoke at once.

"One at a time," Magnus begged. 

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Clary was attacked by a huge, winged demon."

"It killed Ithuriel," Clary said, voice low so only they would hear. 

Magnus looked to Alec at that and was in no way surprised to see the dark look on his face. _Dammit, Clary_ , Magnus thought. Whatever next? 

"There's more," Alec said. "The demon took something from Clary. From what she described it sounds like a soul extraction."

Clary's eyes widened. "What?! It took my - my soul?" 

Isabelle laid a kind hand to Clary's arm. "A sliver of it," she explained. _"If_ Alec is right." 

Magnus felt a frisson of cold fear drop down his spine. 

"I am," Alec told his sister, in that authoritative tone that Magnus would find hot under literally any other circumstances. 

"That's not all," Clary near-wailed. "There's something wrong with Jace. He doesn't know who I am." 

Magnus took a step to one side and leaned against the stone pillar beside him, suddenly unsure his legs could hold him. "Oh dear,” he said, rather inadequately.

Alec was at his side in a moment, a steadying hand to his arm. "Magnus, what is it?" 

Magnus's mind whirled as he put it all together and came up with a complete and utter nightmare. "We need to go somewhere private to talk," he said. "Now. All of us."

“Let’s go,” Isabelle said, striding ahead on her fabulous heels. Clary trailed after her and Magnus pressed a hand to Alec’s arm before he could follow. “I need to ask you something,” he told him. “But, you might not be very happy with me in a minute and I don’t want you to regret your answer.”

Alec frowned at him but nodded. “Okay.”

Settled in the conference room, they stood around the table that had hosted Alec's Downworlder cabinet meetings and Alec nodded in Magnus’s direction. 

"Yesterday I had a new client," Magnus began, "a warlock I had never met before who claimed to be a friend of Ragnor's. I'm afraid I did something rather...rash. Provided a service that I usually might refuse." 

"What does this have to do with the demon that attacked me?" Clary asked. 

Magnus felt a twinge of annoyance, but let her off. It had been a long few months and this was fixing to be yet another tragedy for her to bear. "I think they were one in the same," he explained. 

"How do you know?" Isabelle asked. 

"Because she wanted a potion, to make someone fall out of love. The final ingredient it required was a sliver of her soul."

Magnus almost couldn't meet Alec's eyes, but he forced himself to. "She said it was for her, she lied about being Ragnor's friend. I...still should have said no. This kind of magic. It's not...I'm not proud of myself." 

"But why Clary? Why Jace?" Alec asked. "It doesn't make any sense." 

Magnus shook his head. "She told me it was for a soldier, so in love that he couldn't do his duty." 

Alec straightened beside Magnus and Magnus tried to ignore it.

"And something that Ragnor said earlier now makes sense," he went on.

"Ragnor's dead," Clary said, bewildered. "How could he say anything to you?" 

"That's a...long story," Magnus said, catching Alec's look of concern from the corner of his eye. "But he told me that this warlock was no friend of his. He warned me she was the worst evil I could imagine. He told me that he wanted to tell me who she was but he couldn't get the words to leave his lips. He could only form the first letter of her name, an L." 

Isabelle spoke for everyone at the table. "So, who is she?" 

Magnus swallowed. "I think she's Lilith, the mother of all demons." 

Alec sucked in a breath. "I don’t understand. What does she want with Jace?" 

"Oh my God," Clary breathed, pressing one hand to the table to support herself. "Just before he died, before he was _murdered_ by that _thing_ , Ithuriel told me that the Owl has a master. He was going to tell me the master's name but he didn't get the chance." 

"The master," Alec said, his lovely face falling as he put it together. "The soldier. By the Angel." 

"What?" Isabelle snapped. 

Alec looked her in the eye. "Jace is the Owl." 

From there they'd descended into panic, though it was admirable how swiftly it was followed by their usual resolve to work together as a team to confront this latest threat. Magnus discovered that Jace had greeted Clary like a stranger that morning and that, though he knew who Alec and Isabelle were, his memories of the last months since Clary had come into their lives were murky and inconsistent. Isabelle had asked Jace if he knew who Alec's boyfriend was and Jace had said he could picture his face but not remember his name. Though Jace knew they had defeated valentine, he couldn’t remember his own role in it. The loss of his memories of Clary aside, Magnus briefly wondered if there wasn't maybe an up side to this. Jace seemed calmer and happier than he had in weeks, Alec had said.

Magnus had advised that they confine Jace to a cell while they figured out how Lilith controlled him. Isabelle and Clary had left to find him and Magnus was once again alone with Alec.

"Alec, I'm so sorry," Magnus said, turning to face him.

Alec reached out and snagged Magnus's fingers in his. "It's not your fault. It's hers."

"Still, I feel responsible. I want you to know, I wouldn't usually provide that kind of spell."

Alec shook his head. “We have to focus on undoing it. Jace, I-”

“I know.”

Alec laughed, a bitter, cut-off sound. “In some ways it’s a relief. I thought he was losing his mind.”

Magnus hung his head. “Isn’t this worse?”

Alec squeezed Magnus’s fingers. “Hey, she tricked you. I know how much Ragnor meant to you. You haven't even begun to mourn him and she played on that."

Magnus softened his eyes. Alec's capability to understand and forgive never ceased to amaze him, especially for a man that could be so delightfully petty about the smallest things.

"We warlocks take longer to grieve," Magnus agreed. "I still am not through the first stage I suppose. Which is...denial." His eyes widened.

Alec shuffled a little closer to Magnus, tugging on his hand. "When you said you spoke to Ragnor earlier?"

Magnus sighed. "It seems he pops up, when I most need him."

Alec pondered this. "Sounds like you're not ready to let him go."

Magnus's eyes stung. "No."

Alec sat on the edge of the conference table and used his grip on Magnus’s hand to draw Magnus close, until he was standing between Alec’s legs. “And you needed him today?”

Magnus rested his hands upon Alec’s chest, patted his shirt gently. “I guess.”

Alec watched him quietly for a moment before clearing his throat softly. “So, uh…what did you want to ask me?”

Magnus took a slow breath and released it even more slowly. “Ragnor pointed something out to me and it’s that…I’m scared.”

Alec blinked. “Of us?”

Magnus nodded. “That box. I didn’t always lose those people to death. Or rather, I did, but sometimes I’d already lost them long before.”

Alec, bless him, looked incredulous. “They left you?”

“Committing your mortal life to loving an immortal being,” Magnus said, shrugging heavy shoulders. “It’s not for everyone.”

Alec frowned. “So, when I asked to move in?”

“Lilith, the soldier she mentioned. That was what reminded me of the box. Of George. It was all just…too much.”

“Bad timing?”

“Hmm, maybe. We hadn’t had the immortality talk yet, not really. In my experience it goes one of two ways and I suppose I didn’t want to face the fact that you might move in with me and then decide you couldn’t do this, us.”

Alec nodded. “And then when it did come up I acted like a spoiled child.”

“No,” Magnus told him, sliding one hand to his cheek. “I completely understand.”

“I don’t think you do,” Alec told him, pinning him with his most serious look. “Yeah you’re immortal and I’m not and sometimes that’s gonna be hard. Sometimes I’ll worry about being a burden to you, if I’m lucky enough to grow old. Sometimes I’ll be sad that I can spend the rest of my life with you, but you can’t spend the rest of yours with me.”

“Alexander,” Magnus whispered, pressing his forehead to Alec’s, feeling Alec’s unsteady breath break across his chin. He thought about Ragnor’s book, but shelved the idea for the moment, as surely as he’d re-shelved the book – while being careful to remember exactly where.

Alec pulled back. “But I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Magnus. I don’t care if we’ve only been together for months. I don’t care if you think I’m young and foolish-”

Magnus shook his head, quickly. “Never.”

“It may have only been months but we’ve been through so much, all of us have and it’s only getting crazier. We don’t know what’s coming for us, Magnus. We could all be dead tom-”

Magnus had heard enough and cut Alec off with a searing kiss, shivering as Alec’s fingers dug into his back and he pulled Magnus tight against his solid body.

Magnus broke the kiss and stared into Alec’s eyes, unflinching. “Move in with me.”

Alec released a great sigh of relief. “Yes.”

“Kiss me?”

“Yes, yes.” 

They were still locked together long moments later when Clary burst back into the room.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, it’s Jace – he’s gone!”

Magnus straightened from where he’d ended up almost lying on Alec, pressing him back against the table. He grabbed Alec’s hand and they moved as one to the door. It seemed the universe just didn’t know when to quit, but whatever was thrown at them next they’d face it and they’d do so together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> For those of you not up with your cockney rhyming slang by the way, an explanation. When Ragnor says, 'Get dressed and sort out that Barnet' - he means Magnus's hair. Barnet Fair / Hair. Heh.
> 
> Ragnor popped up here because I read the lovely [RedOrchid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid)'s hilarious fic [Hindsight is 20/20](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379762) this morning - do check it out :)
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ravelens) \- come and say hi!


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